My ears were clogged up from a bad cold, which made walking through New York City an unusually nonaural event. I headed west and south, past the World Trade Center site and over the West Side Highway, until I could see the Statue of Liberty.

Passing by the Ritz-Carlton, I looked in the window of the hotel’s restaurant. Two businessmen sat, talking over tall glasses of beer. In another chair, a weary Indian national had a book and a weary expression, with one hand resting on his cheek.

I strolled past the Jewish Museum (still under construction) and executed a dazzlingly inefficient series of curlicues that took me in and around the Battery Parking Garage, like I was trying to tie a knot around its girders. Nearby was the PC Garden, an oddly named Chinese restaurant.

West again, back across the West Side Highway. I passed by a livery car with quarters taped to its dashboard–presumably toll money, rather than totems of small yet memorable cash transactions. I darted in and out of Battery Park before heading back east, ending up close to home. Kids jumped up, trying to touch the leaves of a lonely tree planted in the sidewalk.